I Owe You Nothing
by Albus Paulson
Summary: A discussion between Harry, Neville, Dean, and Seamus. Post HBP, set at the end of OOTP.


I Owe You Nothing

Harry Potter sat on a large plush chair, gazing into the fire.

Harry was well aware that he had occupied this chair so much, in this year as in the last, and the one before that, and the one before that, _and_ the one before that, that people had taken to telling incoming first years to stay off that chair – "It's Harry Potter's chair. Stay off it – do you really want Harry Potter mad at you? Rumor has it that he's…"

And of course, the giver of such information always told about one of Harry's adventures, be it his defense of some powerfully magical artifact from Professor Quirrell back in his first year, his killing of a Basilisk (this was widely debated, and Harry had long since shut up about the whole episode) in his second, his foray with Sirius Black and a hundred Dementors (Harry was silent about this too) in his third, and his brave actions in the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth.

The fact that he claimed to have faced Voldemort then, helped him now, as he was proven right by Voldemort's appearance in the Ministry of Magic. Harry was known to have been involved in this, too – but he was noticeably silent, and he exuded an air of sadness and grieving.

No one could understand why. Harry Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived, right? Capable of outflying a jet plane, killing a dozen Dark Creatures without breaking a sweat and taking numerous hugs from Hagrid without breaking any ribs?

He didn't even seem to care that a rather rowdy party, involving all of the OWL and NEWT students, save Ron and Hermione – they were still in the hospital wing after doing Merlin-knows-what with Harry – was underway on the other side of the common room.

"Hey, Harry!" called Dean Thomas. He lifted a rather large flagon of butterbeer. "Come and join us! End of OWLs, y'know?"

Harry seemed to those watching that he warred with himself a moment before rising from his chair and striding quickly across the common room. Most spotted that he checked over his shoulders every few steps, though few noticed that he was watching everyone warily, like a wild wolf would.

"Atta man, Harry! Here, take a bottle-"

"I'd rather get my own, thanks, Seamus." Harry said hoarsely.

Dean, Seamus and the rest of the partying people looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Harry didn't notice their gazes until he had a bottle in his hands, and had opened it himself. "What?" he asked, just as hoarsely as before.

Dean seemed to shake himself out of his astonishment. "You've… you've changed, Harry."

The old Harry would have become very angry at this – and he had given them plenty of cause to fear his anger, and sheer magical power, what with this terrible year and all – but this one just shrugged his shoulders and took a swig of the butterbeer in his hand.

The party began again, understanding that this conversation was something between year mates.

"That's to be expected, Dean." Neville came up to Harry, being obviously careful to stay in Harry's line of sight, and rested a hand on his shoulder. Harry turned his head towards Neville and smiled wanly at the shorter boy. It didn't reach his eyes.

"What's happened with you two?" Seamus asked. "You haven't been the same since the History of Magic OWL."

Harry visibly flinched. Neville shuddered.

Neville spoke shakily. "You know nothing, Seamus, nothing of fear, and nothing of death."

"What do you know that we don't?" Dean demanded.

"We know more than you do, and that is our burden." Harry said softly. "Some knowledge is… too painful to impart."

"What he's trying to say," Neville said, "is that what happened… that night… has destroyed the people we were."

Seamus whispered, "What happened? It looks like it broke you-" he gestured towards Neville, "and shattered you into a million tiny pieces!" he stared at Harry in wonder.

Harry sat down hard on the stiff chair behind him. He brushed his hair back from his face, showing a little silver intermixed among the black, and then said, "How much do you know about Sirius Black?"

0

Harry closed his tale. "He fell through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. He is gone, and will not return to me." Harry rose, tossing his empty butterbeer bottle in the bin. "I'm going to bed. G'night, Nev, Seamus, Dean." And he went up the stairs, leaving them to mull over what he had told them.

"Man, his life is a bunch of really sad and unlucky fights for his life, isn't it?" Seamus muttered.

"It is." said Neville softly. "Some nights I used to wonder what it would be like to have Harry's fame and money. Now I realize that he would give them all up in an eyeblink if it would give him a normal life." He, like Harry, rose and threw his butterbeer in the trash can, and went to bed.

Dean looked in Seamus' eyes. "He owes us nothing. We – the Wizarding world, that is – have given him nothing but ridicule and shame, and a fame that he loathes."

Seamus nodded. "Were he not so honorable, he would have taken advantage of his fame - like Malfoy - long ago. He owes us nothing."


End file.
